About
Copyright © 2010 Andrea Langworthy
Any copying, redistribution or retransmission
of any of the contents of this service without
the express written consent of Andrea Langworthy
is expressly prohibited
For those who asked: I received many compliments on the outfit I wore to my nephew’s wedding. I don’t know how much money my husband slipped the relatives to flatter me, but it was worth every penny. I was on a wedding high for days. Now, it is back to reality and the same-old, same-old of my jeans and sweat shirt life.
Not so, the bride and groom. The new Mr. and Mrs. are still honeymooning in paradise. They deserve it after affording their guests a glimpse of true love and providing us with a reception feast fit for royalty. Dancing ’til midnight, long past our bedtime, my hubby and I tripped the light fantastic. Gosh! What fun.
It was a weekend permeated with love—coursing through my sister’s home during the groom’s dinner and the following day at the Basilica of Saint Mary where the bride and groom held hands as they said their vows. I felt as I do at all weddings: more in love with my own husband. Hearing a young couple promise to cherish each other through any kind of trouble or illness, until death separates them, I am reminded of the day I spoke those same words to the man sitting beside me. It is a wonderful gift every bride and groom gives the guests in attendance. I am sure many couples did as we did, reaching for each other’s hand, holding on tight. Then later, slow dancing to romantic songs chosen by the newlyweds.
“We were like that once,” I whispered to my husband as we spied the lovebirds on the dance floor. “We still are,” he whispered back, squeezing my hand. We need to dance like this more often, I thought.
I’ve attended many weddings. My brother’s took place over 30 years ago when the state was covered in 12-24 inches of snow. Driving to the ceremony was treacherous, so my husband and I wore jeans and heavy coats in case we got stuck along the way. His tuxedo and my long red dress hung in a garment bag in the back seat. We made it safely and changed into our fancy duds—the women using the choir loft—in time for pictures taken at the altar of the church. By the time we all headed to the reception, the temperature outside was biting and we warmed up that night dancing the Butterfly and forming a line to hop like bunnies. We all joined arms to the tune of Hava Nagila.
My son was married in a wedding chapel at Treasure Island Hotel in Las Vegas. Family and friends flew to Nevada to witness him say “I do” to the lovely Christina. No one would fault us for shedding tears when the groom bent down and placed a tiny ring on the finger of his new step daughter, promising the six-year-old he would take care of her and her mother forever.
Weddings come in all shapes and sizes. Some are small and intimate, some over-the-top. They all have one thing in common: two people in love who have chosen to spend the rest of their lives together. When they invite us to witness their commitment to each other and be part of the celebration, it is, indeed, a day to remember.
For Christy and Joe.